


in the lion's den

by Setkia



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Angst with a Happy Ending, Crowley Meets a Prophet As Bad At Being A Prophet As He Is At Being A Demon, I wanted to talk about my favourite bible book and then this happened, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Ineffable Love, Ineffable pining, M/M, Quote: You go too fast for me Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 03:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21247010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setkia/pseuds/Setkia
Summary: It is not impossible for a demon to walk into a church, merely unwise.Crowley has never been wise.





	in the lion's den

**Author's Note:**

> I use CAPITAL LETTERS and italics to imply the voice of God, in reminiscence of how Terry Pratchett identifies Death using only capital letters.

It’s been a few (hundred) years since the Ark. (1)

Crowley has been spending time with Jonah. He’s a fairly decent bloke, one of those religious folks. Everyone is these days. He doesn’t know about Crowley’s … erm, identity, but that’s just par for the course. He’d almost call him a friend. (2)

He hasn’t been tempting lately, but he doubts Downstairs has noticed. When he realized humans were foolish enough of a species to attempt to mark up every piece of earth on the planet, he worried Corrupting them all would take too much effort. Now, he knows better. Humans require very little Tempting, or Corrupting. Maybe it comes with the Free Will thing, but they are full of natural vices which control them more than Crowley ever could.

Crowley hears from one of his spies that Jonah recently told Her to “go and fuck off”, and he knows he’ll be blamed for it, but that’s entirely the work of Jonah himself. (3) The mortal is headed for the docks and Crowley decides he’ll join him. Not as he is, obviously, but he can slither on with the rest of the cargo.

Humans have such short lifespans. Crowley senses Jonah may be doing something to shorten his.

The moment the boat leaves port, the seas begin to quake. It would appear She has a thing for oceanic disasters.

Everyone on the boat begins praying to their gods.

He likes to think that She was a petulant little thing until She created humans. Maybe it was that creation that convinced the other members of the Pantheon She had earned Her place at the Big People Table™.

When none of this works, they go down to the lowest deck. Crowley slithers along too, avoiding being crushed. He knows Jonah is sleeping down there, and doubts he wants to be woken. Crowley knows how terrible being rudely interrupted during a nice nap can be.

They wake him anyway. It’s rather rude, to be honest.

“Who is your god?” demands the apparently decided leader of the entire ship. He’s not even wearing a cool hat or anything to signify his superior position. That’s absolute rubbish.

Jonah yawns, and blinks a few times. He is alarmed to find so many people huddling in the cramped space. Crowley slithers his way nearer to the startled human. Not for comfort, Crowley is a demon. Demons don’t comfort people. It’s just because the straw there is warmer and more comfortable.

“Excuse me?”

“Who is your god?” repeats the leader without a hat. He should really get a hat.

“My god is the one who created the Heavens and the seas.”

“Did you irritate them?”

“I did.” Jonah does not even sound ashamed. Crowley is so proud.

“Apologize.”

“Listen,” says Jonah, sitting up in the stack of hay. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, and I doubt you want to hear the whole story. You can throw me in the water, if you want. It’ll probably satisfy my deity.”

Crowley’s not quite sure what angle Jonah is going for, but the crew of the ship are not onboard with this plan, insisting they merely stop in the closest port or throw cargo overboard to make their trip faster.

The boat lurches violently.

Jonah hits the water with a loud _SPLASH_.

And is promptly swallowed by a rather large fish.

_Classy_, Crowley thinks. He knows She’s listening. She might even be _smug_. As if eating someone via sea-life is _creative _or something. She’s done this all before, what with the Flood. They lost unicorns to that one, which is very unfortunate. Specially since Aziraphale liked them so much—

Crowley looks upwards, as if to check that She has stopped reading his thoughts. It’s useless though, since She sees all.

He wonders if She allows him to run into Aziraphale because it amuses Her to watch a demon chase after an angel.

Crowley doesn’t really have a choice in the matter, so he waits out the Holy One. She’s doing it to teach Jonah a lesson.

In three days, he’s spat out on land. (4)

Crowley accompanies Jonah to Nineveh. As a snake, of course. Not out of worry, because as stated before, demons don’t worry.

Jonah tells the town that God has decided to smite them. It’s the usual spiel. He leaves after his speech and makes his way back to where he came from.

It is a long journey, and before it is finished, God appears to Jonah.

Crowley hides in the sand. It’s difficult to hide in the dessert, and fruitless against an All-Seeing Being.

“_I HAVE DECIDED TO FORGIVE THEM_,” says God.

The sound of Her voice is overpowering. It reminds Crowley of Before. It’s too much. Too many people trust that powerful voice to be gentle. Crowley knows better.

“What?”

“_I HAVE DECIDED TO FORGIVE THEM_,” God repeats.

“Come again?” says Jonah.

This does not surprise Crowley in the least. God _does _have mercy. For those She cares to forgive. Angels who ask too many questions are not on the list. He suspects it may have more to do with lingering glances at a certain angel than his half-hearted joining of Lucifer's merry gang.

“_THEY HAVE CHANGED THEIR WAYS AND ARE MORE PIOUS NOW. I SHALL NOT HARM THEM._”

_In other words, they boosted Your ego._

“B-but! But you can’t just do that!”

_Of course She can. She’s God, remember?_

“_AND WHYEVER NOT?_”

“Because you said you were going to destroy them! You made me tell them that they were doomed, and now you’re just not going to do it? You made a fish _eat _me just so I could tell them to prepare their graves, and you’re not even going to go through with it?”

Jonah does have a point, but God is unlikely to change Her mind.

_CROWLEY._

Oh, he hates how She does that.

_I KNOW YOU DO. I SEE YOU THERE, CROWLEY. SAND CANNOT HIDE YOUR COWARDLINESS FROM ME._

Crowley stops Time, and slithers out of the sand. It appears there will be no avoiding this.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

_I SHOULD BE ASKING YOU SUCH A THING._

“Can’t you speak aloud? I hate it when you just … put stuff in my head.”

She knows, and She will not stop.

“I didn’t touch him, before you blame me for his actions,” Crowley says, even though he knows She knows this already. Jonah is brave though, admirable. He understands why She chose him. To defy God takes a lot. Crowley did it once, and not even on purpose. “I just had a question.”

_I HATE QUESTIONS._

“I am well aware. Just … what is your plan? I mean, with the whole putting a demon and angel on Earth to, what, counter-balance each other? You want me around tempting humans, while Aziraphale tries to undo all the evil I do? I mean, what’s the point? For us to play tug-o-war indefinitely with each other?”

_I CANNOT TELL YOU ABOUT THE PLAN. IT IS—_

“Ineffable, I know.”

Huh. He just cut off God. Maybe Jonah _is _rubbing off on him.

“Thought it was worth the ask.”

_REMEMBER YOUR PLACE, CROWLEY._

As if he could ever forget it. There are times when it almost escapes him. Times when he’s with Aziraphale and watching him eat the newest delicacy from some port when they run into each other, but then the angel says something like “it’s in your nature”, and his wings feel heavy and his eyes are slits and he wants to scrub himself clean. Not so that he may be accepted again by Heaven, but so that Aziraphale will accept him as himself.

That won’t happen.

They’re an angel and a demon. Hereditary enemies.

“Is this part of my punishment for asking questions?” Crowley asks.

_IS WHAT A PART OF YOUR PUNISHMENT?_

She knows what he’s talking about.

The heat in his supposedly cold chest when a certain someone smiles. The flush on his cheeks when looked at by a certain being. The need for approval, acceptance, from a sword-less entity. The way his body sings when he spots light hair, then freezes when he’s wrong.

He’ll take that as a yes.

“Are you going to make an example of him?”

_PERHAPS. YOU MAY NOT INTERFERE._

“Course. Wasn’t even thinking about it. Figure you’ve got places to be, angels to order, all that jazz. But um, can I just … could I just tell you something?”

_YOU HAVE SAID MANY THINGS._

Crowley hates when She gets like this.

“Right well, one more.”

There’s silence in his mind.

“They’re trying their best. The humans, that is.”

_I AM AWARE._

And then She’s gone.

Jonah continues on, as though Crowley has not spoken to Her Holiness. He kicks at the sand and screams into the emptiness of the dessert. (5) When the coolness of the night comes, Jonah places himself beneath a tree and falls into slumber.

Humans truly are amazing beings.

The next morning, the tree is dead.

Jonah is, understandably, a bit annoyed by this.

She tells him something about being unjustly mad, and then goes off.

Jonah eats a lot of fish from then on. He thinks he’s getting back at the one who ate him. Crowley doesn’t tell him otherwise. Crowley may even have a hand in the making of sushi.

The next time he sees Aziraphale, he tries to take a leaf out of Jonah’s book. Tries to be brave.

He manages to babble about an arrangement before he’s promptly rejected.

  
Crowley pulls a few strings during the French Revolution. Which is to say, he intervenes an awful lot and somehow manages to convince Aziraphale he just happened to be in the country. It’s a big, fat lie, one he’s sure Aziraphale sees through and is too polite to mention.

There is no such thing as hearing Beyond the Veil, and even if there was, Crowley has no access to it, being of the infernal type. Regardless, he has no doubt Jonah is laughing at him.

  
Crowley buys Aziraphale chocolates. Plans to celebrate the opening of his bookshop with them. Between Gabriel showing up, the fear of a promotion, and pulling off a ruse to trick the archangel, he forgets to give them to the angel.

(Or so he tells himself.)

  
Asking for Holy Water is not an act of bravery.It’s another way to avoid confrontation, to win a fight without having to fight it. Not a suicide pill, a suicide bomb most likely. He doesn’t blame Aziraphale for acting the way he does, but it takes a century of sleeping to get over it.

(He’s still not over it.)

  
It is not impossible for a demon to walk into a church, merely unwise.

Crowley has never been wise.

He could blame the angel himself for getting into such a ridiculous situation that he needs to be helped out in such a way. He could blame the double-crossing Nazis. He could even blame Her. That’s getting a bit old though, so instead of thinking about blame, he just hops on hot coals and saves Aziraphale’s sorry ass. And his books.

The worst thing is not the church. It is not the look of betrayal on Aziraphale’s face when he realizes he’s been tricked.

It’s when Aziraphale lets him into his bookshop, sits him on the couch and tells him to stay put.

Crowley wants to run away. He’s still a bit tender since their last talk. He can’t even make a dignified exit given the state his feet are in though, so he stays rooted to the spot and glances at the titles around him without much thought.

“You truly are foolish, my dear.”

Crowley winces at the term. It’s not purposefully mean, Aziraphale doesn’t know he’s doing it. He’s not sure if that makes it worse.

“I’m _fine_, angel.”

“You may be a wily serpent, but you can’t fool me. I’ve known you too long for that.”

He’s too tired to protest. Performing miracles is hard, especially since his body isn’t built for it. Aziraphale’s bookshop is comforting, warm and inviting. He loses the will to fight much as Aziraphale takes his foot in hand and moves his fingers to ease the pain.

Crowley swallows, his pupils turning into slits.

“Thought you hated King James’ version.”

“Hmm?”

Crowley nods towards the bookshelf containing solely Bibles. “Said it was trying too hard, and had an inaccuracy concerning … what was it? Leviticus: 18?”

“Leviticus 18 is always interpreted wrong, particularly Leviticus 18:22.” Aziraphale sighs. “James was a fine man, though his Bible does have much to be desired.”

“They all do. Saying I _tempted _Eve! Ha! I gave her a choice. That’s more than She ever gave them.”

The rest of the time Crowley lays on the couch is spent in silence, but a comfortable one.

Once he’s able to stand again, he fixes his jacket and nods. “Well, I’ll be off then, angel.”

“Crowley … are you really still on about that … _thing_?”

“… Yes.”

Aziraphale nods, his jaw tight.

Crowley walks out. He hopes Aziraphale does not notice how he trembles.

Pretending to be brave takes a lot out of him. He can’t imagine what true bravery, like that of Jonah, would do to him.

  
The reward for his bravery is _“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”_

  
He’s handed a basket. The Basket.

They lose the child.

They find the child.

They stop Armageddon.

They trick Heaven and Hell.

Everything changes.

They stay the same.

  
Aziraphale is reading _Les Miserables_, and Crowley feels personally called out by the novel.

“Why do you read that?”

“It’s a beautiful story.”

“We’ve finally got Them off our backs, and you’re going to spend that freedom reading Hugo’s tangent concerning the sewer system of Paris?”

“It’s an interesting subject,” Aziraphale protests.

“More interesting than the supposed revolution happening in the novel? Don’t even get me started on his digressions about Waterloo.”

“It adds to the style.” He’s pouting. It’s childish, and adorable and Crowley is too sober for this. “Besides, it’s a _rebellion_. They don’t succeed in the end.”

“Then what’s the point? Why get all attached only to have no fruit at the end?”

_Why indeed?_

Crowley shoves the thought away.

“Because it is brave. To fight for such a cause. Against the odds. Because before a revolution can happen, rebellions have to inspire others.” Aziraphale gets a wistful look on his face, like he forgets the time his head was nearly taken off by the guillotine. “You’re such a Grantaire, aren’t you? The pessimist who can’t see the purpose of fighting for what you believe in.”

“What I believe in doesn’t need me to fight for him.”

Silence.

“It. I said it.”

Aziraphale sets his book down. “Crowley—”

“Well, I’ve had fun, Angel. We really must do this again some time. How about 2142? We’ll see if the Ritz is still a thing.”

“Crowley, you can’t just walk out—”

“Yes I can, and I am, Angel. Tickety boo!”

The few cars still out on the street stop, the flickering flame of the candle pause.

“Stopping time is cheating, Angel.”

“I’ve learnt a trick or two from you.”

Crowley turns around slowly. “I don’t suppose we could avoid this until the next Armageddon, could we?”

Aziraphale shakes his head. His expression is hard to read. The one who wears his heart on his sleeve is suddenly blank. Crowley fiddles with his glasses, thanking whoever invented them for creating a barrier between himself and a force of such gentle power. Even though they are practically made of plastic, any defence is better than none.

“This might … take a while.”

Aziraphale nods and gestures for Crowley to take a seat on his couch. The demon remembers laying there with aching feet and an aching heart. One thing has remained the same, decades later.

“I’ve thought about telling you,” Crowley confesses, since the proverbial cat has clawed its way out of the bag. “Really, I have. Countless times. But I don’t ever know what to say. And you can’t even ask me when it happened, because time isn’t _real_. Not to me. Not to us.” It feels risky to say “us”, to make the assumption they have a future together to create an “us”.

Aziraphale only nods.

“I meant it, you know. When I said we could … er, go to Alpha Centauri.” _Run away together. _It’s too embarrassing to say aloud, and though he is a serpent, he feels just a bit too hot for this. “Meant it the other times too. When I said, said I’d take you places. If you wanted. Want. Erm … I … I don’t know what you want me to sssssssssssssay.”

“I don’t _want_ you to say anything,” Aziraphale says calmly. “Tell me what you want to. If you want to.”

It’s worse like this. Kind, kind Aziraphale. Always so forgiving and understanding. Always giving him an out, always offering him a way to escape.

Crowley swallows and thinks of a man who got on a boat to defy God.

“It didn’t start in the Garden. I don’t think it did, at least. If it did, I didn’t know it. Might have started earlier than that, if I’m being honest. Which I am. Being honest, that is. I try to be honest with you, Angel. You know that, don’t you? I don’t _want _to deceive you, though I know I should.

“I don’t know if it’s because you’re always there, that you’re a constant … Humans are so temporary, but we’re not, and it’s hard not to gravitate towards something that will always be there in a world of constant change. And it was risssssssky, taking steps towards you, especially since there’d be literal Hell to pay if Below ever found out. I don’t know what’s worse than Falling, but I’m sure Beelzebub would figure something out.

“I … You’re _you_, Angel. _Aziraphale_. You like old things and are the most hedonistic angel I’ve ever met. You indulge in your every whim and you don’t see it as selfish, do you? You think of it as admiration. And it is. The way you do it, it’s not with greed, it’s with … reverence. For everything. You cradle the spines of books like they’re precious children.

“I … what I feel towards you, I can’t … it’s ineffable. And I know that’s irritating to say, _really _irritating, especially considering the Plan and everything, but it is. I’ve thought sometimes about what I would say, how I would say it, but I could never think of something that would be _enough_. What I feel, it can’t be encompassed using language. It’s not expressible through sounds or actions or emotions, or even thought. It just … _is_. Just like you just _are_.

“And I know, I know that it’s ssssssstupid. Whatever it is that I feel, or am, or whatever has been going on with me since probably before the Fall. And it’s stupid to think that you could ever … but I’m a demon, and I’m very stupid. Can’t remember what water slides off of. I’d lose my head without it attached to me. Though, honestly I don’t think I need it. But with you, it’s worse. And also better?

“I’m a messsssssss, no matter where I am, when I am, but if it’s with you … it feels like there’s something stable. There’s a balance that wasn’t there before. Maybe we _do _cancel each other out. I’m not sure, and quite frankly? I don’t care. We’re _ussssssssssss_. We have _our _side, and I’d really like it if this ineffable thing of mine didn’t turn us into a me and you.”

Crowley is flushed and can’t breathe. He doesn’t have to, strictly speaking, but it’d be nice to ground himself in some way.

Aziraphale steps towards him. His hands reach out and then Crowley is no longer wearing his glasses.

He’s defenceless.

“You wily old serpent …”

Aziraphale places his sunglasses on a table. Crowley resists the urge to reach out for them.

“Look me in the eyes, Crowley.”

He does. He can’t _not_. He’s a weak, weak, demon.

“Several centuries ago, a prophet was told to go to Nineveh and inform the inhabitants that they were to die. You stayed with him. When he tried to escape Her, when he was enveloped by the sea. You stayed with him when he told the people the terrible news, and you remained when She saw it fit to leave him in the dessert without shelter. You remained by his side until he died. You were his friend, and he cherished you.”

“I don’t—”

“I heard about it. Gabriel was recounting a conversation She had with a certain demon. About a request the demon made. A plea for mercy, not for themselves, but for humanity.”

“Angel—”

“It started then.”

Crowley’s ears are pounding. His skin itches, like he’s shedding. His blood is racing.

“It was then that I realized you were loyal. That I knew you had not interfered. That you _respected _them. That you saw them for what they are. Living, breathing entities. Even She has forgotten such a thing, as have many of the others. But you don’t see them that way, do you? Humans are _people_, above all. They are alive, and for however temporary they last, they matter.”

The demon gulps.

“You asked for Holy Water and I thought that loyalty in you had died. That you were finished with me, and worse, with humanity. You were going to leave them to fend for themselves. But then you walked into the church. Even though we hadn’t spoken in over a _century_, you walked in as though nothing had changed.

“You saved me and my books, and I don’t think that was a choice. There was no option for you _not _to do that. You _care_, so much Crowley. And Beelzebub will try to convince you that is wrong, and that it makes you weak. But it makes you _strong_. You are passionate, and you are _beautiful_.”

“I’m a demon—”

“A beautiful, beautiful demon. Who cares too much.”

Crowley doesn’t think he can stand this. He doesn’t know what’s happening, isn’t sure if he’s dreaming. He wonders if She’s listening, watching, laughing. If it’s the payoff she’s been waiting for, six thousand years of set up for the greatest con of all time. He wants to sink into the couch, become one with it.

He remembers Jonah.

He stares back at Aziraphale.

“What I’m trying to say, my dear Crowley, is though what I feel towards you is ineffable, the best approximation is love. I love you, Crowley.”

The demon can’t even open his mouth to retort that of _course _Aziraphale loves him, like angels love everything. His eyes are so genuine, so bright, so open, so _beautiful_, like the stars of Alpha Centauri. Even if the angel only _believes _himself to be in love with Crowley, the demon will believe him.

“I believe I’m all up to speed now, my dear,” says Aziraphale. “Wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, Angel. I believe you are.”

  
In the Beyond, Jonah is proud of his friend.

(1)Crowley doesn’t understand humans. It was a big boat, but they felt the need to give it a new name.

(2) Friend feels like the wrong word for someone Crowley enjoys spending time with, and yet is unable to unseen the hourglass practically hovering over the mortal’s head, so until someone invents a word for that, he’ll go with friend.

(3) He said it a bit more politely than that, Crowley is sure, but he likes to imagine the look on Her metaphysical face if Jonah had used such language.

(4) It’s always three days. Perhaps She’s got OCD?

(5)Some of the sand _does _get into Crowley’s eyes. He forgives him for it though, since he understands it’s par for the course, as Jonah is just an emotional human.

**Author's Note:**

> Leviticus 18:22: "man shall not lie with another man"  
2142: Reference to Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy  
Please actually read the Book of Jonah. It's 4 chapters long, super short and super funny. Also, I meant this to be short. It was not ... Whoops. Also a note about the use of "they prayed to their gods", the Bible recognizes the existence of other gods, but that the God referred to in the Bible should be the only one worshipped.


End file.
